Plein-Air Panic: Why I Paint Outside Sometimes (And Immediately Regret It)

By a Slightly Sunburned Artist Who Should Know Better

Funny...outdoor painting used to be my love… until nature started fighting back.

Ah, plein air painting—the French term for “let’s drag $700 worth of supplies into a mosquito-infested field and pretend we’re Monet.” It sounds romantic, doesn’t it? The wind in your hair, the light dancing on the landscape, the Instagram likes rolling in. Meanwhile, studio painting is basically adult naptime with better lighting. Let’s break down the prep, the chaos, and why one makes you feel like a genius while the other makes you question your life choices.

Studio Painting: The Cozy Cult of Control

Prep Time: 30 seconds.

Roll out of bed in pajama bottoms that double as “real pants.” Flip on the AC. Brew coffee stronger than your imposter syndrome. Done.

Challenges:

• The cat insists your palette is a bed.

• You run out of burnt umber and have to walk three whole feet to the supply shelf.

• Sunlight? What’s that? You’ve got a $12 LED panel that mimics “golden hour” at 2 a.m.

Vibe: You’re a god. The still life doesn’t move. The shadows obey. If the painting sucks, you blame the reference photo, not “nature’s betrayal.”

Funny Outdoor Painting (Only Sometimes): Nature’s Prank Show

Prep Time: 3 hours (minimum).

1. Tetris (translation-Stuff an absurd amount of art gear into one bag like you’re solving a high-stakes puzzle… or risk leaving half your supplies behind. 🎒🧩 ) your easel, paints, brushes, bug spray, sunscreen, hat, water, snacks, folding chair, and a cooler into a backpack that now weighs more than your emotional baggage.

2. Scout the “perfect spot” on Google Earth, only to arrive and find it’s now a construction site for luxury condos.

3. Check the weather app 47 times. It says “sunny.” It lies.

4. Pack a portable bathroom because the nearest bush is occupied by a judgmental squirrel.

Challenges (Pick Three, Collect Them All):

• The Light Moves Faster Than Your Ex. You set up for that gorgeous morning glow. By the time you mix the sky color, it’s high noon and everything looks like a fried egg.

• Bugs Discover Oil Paint is Edible. Wasps use your canvas as a mosh pit. A beetle dives into your ultramarine and emerges as a tiny Smurf.

• Wind: The Ultimate Art Critic. One gust = your turpentine bath + palette on the ground + easel doing cartwheels. Bonus: your wet painting now has a leaf permanently fused to the sky.

• Tourists: Can I watch you paint? Me: Sure, you got 4 hours? Hikers: asking for directions mid-stroke Me: Yes, the trail's that way-past my sanity.

• The Ground is Lava. You kneel in fire ants. Your water bottle rolls downhill into a creek. Your phone dies because you used it as a level, a compass, and a mirror to check if you have paint on your face (you do).

Vibe: You’re a survivalist with a brush. Every stroke is a negotiation with physics. If the painting turns out, it’s a miracle. If it doesn’t, you blame “the experience” and post a moody black-and-white photo of your mud-splattered shoes.

## The Final Showdown: Studio vs. Field

Comfort

Studio: Heated, Wi-Fi, snacks

Field: Relieving oneself by a tree only to have a bear show up to the same tree 10 minutes later (true story, Banff, Canada) 🐻🪾

Lighting

Studio: Consistent (boring)

Field: Magical (for 12 minutes)

Distractions

Studio: Apple TV in the background and Ted Lasso is airing

Field: A cow licking your canvas

Ego Boost

Studio: “I’m so disciplined”

Field: “I survived capitalism and horseflies

Final Product

Studio: Technically perfect, soul optional

Field: Wonky proportions, but vibes

Pro Tip From a Masochist:

Start small. One tiny canvas. One brush. One tube of paint. One prayer.

If you hate it, you’ve only ruined 20 minutes and half a sandwich.

If you love it, congratulations—you’ve unlocked the chaotic joy of painting while nature tries to kill you.

TL;DR: Studio painting is a hug from a wealthy aunt. Plein-air is a wrestling match with Mother Earth while she’s hangry. Both make art. Only one makes stories.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to scrape dried grass out of my titanium white and apologize to the park ranger for “accidentally” using his trash can as a turpentine dump.

Happy painting, you gloriously brave souls. 🎨🌿🦟

Dedication:

To the plein-air gods I've admired over the years, some of who triggered (tricked) me into thinking I could do this because they make it look so easy—

D. Eleinne Basa (eleinnebasa.com) Kevin Macpherson (kevinmacpherson.com), Jim Wodark (jimwodark.com),, Scott L. Christensen (scottchristensen.net), and the 19th-century Russian beast Ivan Shishkin, whose forests are so lush I once tried to hug one.You inspired me. Nature punished me. Thanks, I think.

Back in the day during my Plein-air addiction

A trip down memory lane